A Place Of Safe Keeping
by Fysh
Summary: loose parody of the Monica Lewinsky fiasco, set in the Discworld. R'n r please!


A summertime mystery

_ [Author's Note: This story is set in the Discworld, created by Terry Pratchett. All the characters apart from Mandy Blowinsky and Wee Willie, and places named in the story are based on characters from Discworld novels, the copyright of which is owned by Terry and Lyn Pratchett. Discworld is a trademark registered to Terry Pratchett. It's not my intention to sell this story for any profit, or to in any other way illegally use the aforementioned copyrighted material for financial gain. It was written shortly after the Monica Lewinsky case hit the headlines in the US. It is intended as a parody, written by a fan of his work . The story would fit into the Discworld timeline shortly after the events in Feet of clay.  
I have tried to emulate his writing style where possible. I have thus included several footnotes]_

The sun was high in the sky and it was a glorious summer day in Ankh-Morpork. For that part of the population that couldn't use their sinuses, anyhow, because the river was unusually dry and the city'ssmellwas at its strongest and the city was generally at its Ankhiest.

Street traders cried their usual cries, or sometimes just cried **[1]**, people walked the streets, the Watch watched crime, and life generally went on. Or in the case of the corpse lying on the river **[2]**, life went on somewhere else. So far Nobby and Angua were trying to ascertain which of the several reasons for death had succeeded.

"So, he ran away from a couple of Palace guards, went into the Troll's head and said something about rocks, then left in a hurry, chucked something at one of Ymor the Thief's men, then legged it up to the Plaza, where he_ bought one of Dibbler's sausages?_"

"Yep. As far as I can smell he came back down here and died of something, but the smell of fear's too strong, I can't smell anyone else's scent on his clothes," replied Angua, standing up from examining the body.

"So he ate one of Dibbler's sausages when he was _sober?_" asked Nobby in incredulous tones.

"I didn't say it made sense, I just said it happened. Anyway, I checked with Dibbler a few minutes ago. He remembered the guy because it was the first sober customer he's had who hasn't complained within ten seconds. He was very disappointed to hear he was dead," remarked Angua.

"What'll we put it down as? "Multiple Suicide"?" said Nobby.

"Multiple?" said Angua uncertainly.

"Well going into the Troll's Head is definitely suicide, and so is eating Dibbler's food, and the rest are pretty damn close, if you ask me," pointed out Nobby with the observational skills of one who wants to finish the job in the next ten minutes and get through a few pints before lunchtime.

"I supposeI'll ask Mr Vimes when I write my report. Is there anything else we had to do?" said Angua, replacing the corpse on the riverbed where it had been found that morning.

"Vimes said you was to go and check the strong room at Vortin's. Got done over again day before yesterday. I swear , those thieves are bloody unoriginal. Fifth time this month that place has been done," commented Nobby, walking slowly along the bridge, savouring the city's unique perfume.

"Well, it's their attitude to the strongbox codes, isn't it? Even though the thieves left a polite note suggesting they change the code, the manager said it was a good code that they'd used for years, and he couldn't be going around learning new codes at his age," said Angua.

"Well, I suppose, I mean he's a zombie an' allhow old is he now, one hundred and seventy?" mused Nobby.

"The big one seven oh is in a month. Bit old fashioned really but the place does have a good reputation," said Angua as they stepped onto Lower Broadway, heading for Pseudopolis Yard. The shift ended in about an hour, and Angua wanted to write her report. Nobby wanted to down several pints and was walking slightly faster, in the way that expectant binge drinkers do.

"Yeah, a reputation for being the easiest place to rob after the Post Office," chuckled Nobby.

"I'll head up there by myself then. Tell Carrot I'll be back in a bit will you? He wanted me to go to the Campaign for Equal Heights meeting with him to practice my dwarfish," said Angua. 

"Wotcha," said Nobby, grinning . He was the only person in the watch who was to some extent immune from Carrot's tendency to get Watchmen involved in the community at large.

** [1] this is Ankh-Morpork, remember. Daylight robbery isn't just a metaphor here.**

** [2]The river was especially dry, as in devoid of water. That doesn't mean the riverbed was empty, it just means that even less of the sludge euphemistically called water was actually water.**

This was because the community at large tended to take one look at Nobby and then ran off screaming. Most people would be offended at this; Nobby saw it as an opportunity to nick any convenient items of small jewellery and read items of intimate correspondence in his never ending endeavour to increase his bank of colourful anecdotes.

Meanwhile, Vimes was at the Temple of Small Gods, trying to clean his shoulder of the gift the message pigeon had given him, while simultaneously fighting the human tide which seemed hell bent on stopping him from getting to the Palace, where Vetinari wanted to see him on urgent business.

A loud explosion announced that the Guild of Alchemists had once again discovered some form of high explosive. It never stayed discovered for long because they always managed to spread a uniform (but rather thin) layer of the sample over most of the Disc. They were sticking at it though, because there were a lot of mercenaries and heroes in the city these days, and the first Alchemist to succeed in making a portable explosive that wasn't user unfriendly would make so much money, he wouldn't have to bother with all that lead to gold business for a long time.

Vimes sighed. As if policing wasn't hard enough, those bloody loonies were trying to make some stuff which would annihilate the scene of the crime, from the sound of it, let alone any incriminating evidence. And these days so many crooks were using dragons to burn evidence that Sybil had stopped selling them as pets, even to University students.

He sneaked in behind the Guild of Merchants along Skittle Alley, and reflected that here was another bunch of men that believed it was their right to not only rob people blatantly, but also to inform them of the fact by means of badly written receipts.

He stopped walking for a minute and leaned against the wall, fumbling for some matches to light his cigar with. He inhaled deeply and exhaled luxuriantly. A cigar could be a man's best friend sometimes, when people felt unco-operative, the weather was too muggy to do real police work, and too many student wizards were deciding their talents might be more appreciated in the city's vast underworld. The university had never had fraternities before but students had now invented Flag week, which consisted of tying a flag with the fraternities' insignia on it in the most visible place possible. The wizardly twist was that it was allowable to remove or destroy opponent's flags whenever the chance arose, so protective spells had to be used. However it was considered unsporting to kill innocent people and so in order to protect innocent people who might one day visit Ankh (cynics said none had been there yet, but you never knew..) the spells had to be made specific and so Thaumic Programming had become a major student pastime.

Vimes finished his cigar, and carried on toward the Palace. After a few minutes of struggling with the intractable and demented beggar known variously as Foul Ole Ron, Bugger Off, and Oh Gods It's Him Again, Vimes made it to the palace, and walked up the steps and the along the corridor to the Oblong office from where Vetinari kept the city from toppling into anarchy. The gods alone knew how, thought Vimes.

"Sir, you wanted to see me?" he said, at the door.

"Ah, Vimes, come in. I have a slight conundrum which I would appreciate your help with. Do you see that safe there?," he said, pointing at the wall.

"Yes, sir," replied Vimes, puzzled.

"Good man. Go to the wall opposite it and open the panel there. It looks like a normal wall slab," instructed Vetinari. Vimes did as he was instructed.

"What do you see?" asked Vetinari in silky tones.

" A key," replied Vimes, wondering if Vetinari had finally lost it. He tried to look for any signs of odd looking candles on the desk. Maybe that bloody vampire had started again

"Precisely," said Vetinari, interrupting his thoughts, "a key. One of the two keys to the safe in which I keep many important documents. You remember the case with the gonne a few years ago, Commander ? The original design is in that safe, in case it is ever needed for war. The design for an advanced type of siege engine, the design for a type of man-powered escape vehicle, even some sort of communication device which you might be interested in looking at sometime, they are all in this safe which has, as I say, two keys. Do you know where the other key is, Vimes?" said Vetinari, in the same silky tones.

"Not yet, sir," said Vimes, guardedly.

"Such a shame. That makes two of us. I keep it, or rather kept it about my person in a rather intimate place and yet it seems to have been stolen. I shall not be able to sleep safely until it is recovered," said Vetinari gravely. 

" Any idea who it might have been , sir?" asked Vimes innocently.

"Ah, yes. There is, or rather was, a new secretary, she was only hired a few weeks ago, part of some damn internship program for young ladies who don't want to work in the Street of Negotiable Affection just yet. She may have been involved," muttered Vetinari and for the first time Vimes could remember, the man wasn't trying to stare through him as he spoke. Ye gods, thought Vimes, there's something funny going on here

"Would the dead man found by the Brass Bridge this morning with a dented skull, broken knee, several knife wounds, a couple of crossbow quarrels in him, and minus his trousers, have anything to do with this, sir?" asked Vimes, trying not to grin.

"Oh yes, the other suspect. He was seen running from the Palace last night. Highly suspicious behaviour, so I sent a couple of guards down to see him but he panicked and got himself killed," said Vetinari in the tones of one talking of a relative's regrettable tendency to put their undergarments on their head and talk to trees.

"And, uh, the girl, sir?" asked Vimes.

"What of her?" snapped Vetinari. Bingo, thought Vimes..

"Is she around, or has she suspiciously disappeared?" asked Vimes nastily.

"She hasn't been seen since yesterday evening," said Vetinari icily. He shifted in his seat. Vimes noticed that one of the panes in the window behind the desk was broken.

"Well I'll see what I can do, sir. I suppose you have no idea how she might have got a t the key sir, seeing as you keep it in such an intimate place" said Vimes, almost sniggering.

"I don't sleep as lightly as I used to, Vimes," snapped Vetinari, turning to face the city once more. " You may go," he added.

Vimes walked out of the office, livid as usual at Vetinari's way of treating him like some sort of machine. Well now the tables were turning in his favour. This business with the girlVimes was actually surprised to find that it made Vetinari seem morewell, more _human_, when you could think of him as actually bothering with something as commonplace as noticing pretty faces (or maybe not just faces, his mind added). However, in another way, Vimes found it gnawing away at his respect for the man as some kind of genius who could always find a way of fixing any problem, who had even turned his own imprisonment into an advantage before. That would be the case all round, he supposed, and some of the Guild heads were getting odd ideas about democracy**[3]**, so Vimes thought it best to keep his mouth shut.

He walked down the hall to Drumknott's office, to ask a bit more about the girl. He bumped into the clerk, who was just on the way out of his office, looking distressed. 

"Ah, Vimes. I was expecting you. I suppose you're here about that blasted Blowinsky girl," said Drumknott, in the vexed tones of the one who always has to fix an easily avoided problem.

"Yes. I was wondering if you could tell me a bit about her. I mean a name would be nice, but I suppose a description is too much to ask," said Vimes sarcastically.

"Don't be flippant. It's not my fault Vetinari treats you indifferently. Her name's Mandy Blowinsky, she's in her early twenties, quite attractive if you know what I mean, and until last night she was staying in the staff wing of the Palace accomodation," said Drumknott.

"She was staying _in the palace?_" asked Vimes incredulously.

"You think it odd? Most of the staff do. I mean it'd be a bit thick to have to traipse up here from the Shades every morning, not to mention dangerous to live there in the first place," said Drumknott.

** [3]Democracy is fine by us, they said, so long as we have the deciding vote.**

"No, I mean.oh forget it," he said, realising Vetinari might have confided in him and him alone about some details of the case. 

"Any of the spies see her leave the city?" asked Vimes, changing tack hurriedly. 

"No reports of any sightings. She must still be here, but in a population of over a million that doesn't exactly help," said Drumknott. 

"Well, I'll get on it now. My shift's only just started," said Vimes and turned to leave. 

"Uh, one thing Vimes, before you go. I understand his lordship would appreciate it if you would deal with the case personally and not involve any other Watchmen. Discretion is apparently important. People might get the wrong idea," said Drumknott, a knowing smile on his face. 

Vimes nodded. This bugger would _love_ people to get the wrong idea, he thought. I'm sure he plans to be on top of the heap if Vetinari gets the elbow. Well bugger that for a game of soldiers, he decided. I'm not taking orders off some swine who thinks that "wedding tackle" means a married couple's fishing rod. 

He strode out of the Palace and walked toward the Maul, keeping an eye and an ear open for Dibbler. He was a useful mine of information so long as you remembered not to buy anything off of him.**[4]**

He found him in the usual place in Sator Square. He was peddling his unique sausages-inna-bun to anyone or thing that would listen, although even Foul Ole Ron had been bright enough to seek food elsewhere. Vimes strolled up nonchalantly. 

"'Allo, yer lordship. Care for a sausage-inna-bun? Go on, only half a dollar, and that's cuttin' me own throat," said Throat, as he liked to be known. 

"No thanks, Throat, I'm not feeling that glum yet," said Vimes cheerfully. 

"Suit yerself," said Dibbler amicably. "GET CHORE SAUSAGES-INNA-BUN HEA! ONLY HARF A DOLLAR!" shouted Throat at the world in general. 

"Know anything about these new secretaries in the Palace, Throat?" asked Vimes innocently. 

"Oh, you mean the internship program for girls what don't want to work in the Whore Pits? Yeah. I heard one of em's quite a corker. She's done a runner though, so I hears," said Dibbler with a knowing grin on his face. "You looking for a bit of the ole you-know-what, Commander? A bit of , to quote the Agateans, "what-is-the-health-of-your-parent?" he said, leering. 

"I need to talk to her, Throat. I'm investigating a robbery and I . I thought she might be able to help," said Vimes patiently. He had known Dibbler a long time.**[5]**

"Well now's yer chance your lordship , cos that's her over there if I ain't mistaken and I don't think I am," said Throat sounding smug. 

"Where?" said Vimes, spinning around. 

"Her over there. The brunette one with high cheeks and fat arms, shouting her head off," said Dibbler. Vimes sauntered over towards her, but when he was ten yards from her, she turned, saw him and ran. 

Vimes gave chase, realizing that she ran bloody fast for someone supposed to be a clerk. Oh well, it took all sorts, he supposed. At least he was gaining on her 

"STOP RIGHT THE-oh bugger it," he wheezed, running out of breath. He carried on running, fighting back the stars in his eyes. 

The girl ducked around a corner which Vimes knew led to the back of the Assassin's Guild. Oh don't tell me these evil sods are involved too, thought Vimesbut when he got around the corner the girl was gone and there was no tell-tale sound of a door shutting. Instead there was the mocking sound of footsteps leaving the alley by the other exit. 

"Damn!" muttered Vimes. It would have been too simple for it to end this way, he supposed gloomily. He sat down on a garbage can and lit another cigar, puffing deeply. 

** [4] Dibbler's honesty tended to give up and slope off for a quick pint or ten when he was trying to convince anyone of the value of his merchandise.**

** [5] It often seemed like even longer.**

While he was exhaling, he noticed the girl edging backwards along the alley towards him, apparently worried although she wasn't facing him. She was facing the three thieves that were approaching her armed with swords and evil grins.

None of the group had noticed him yet, so he got up and hid behind the corner of the alley, lighting another cigar as he did so and inhaling on this as well. He raised a finger to his lips when the girl noticed him and she pretended not to have seen him. Then, when one of the thieves was suitably close, he stubbed his cigar out on the thieves' neck. As the man yelled in pain, Vimes elbowed him in the stomach and met the man's descending face with a rising kneecap. Vimes reflected briefly upon the advantages of learning to fight as a kid in the rough areas. He'd heard of fighting fair, and thought of it as he did of foreign food - all very well for those that want it, but he was happy sticking with what he knew. He caught the thief's falling sword, and turned its fall into an upward swing to parry the thrust of the closer of the other two thieves. He thrust again, putting all his weight behind the thrust to get close to the second thief and then stubbed the other cigar into the man's forehead. As the thief's guard dropped, Vimes head-butted him, then staggered backwards as the thief fell over, whimpering. The third thief was about to take his chance to skewer Vimes, who he hadn't yet recognized, when the girl planted her foot squarely in his groin. He went cross-eyed for a second and then collapsed into his own private universe of pain.

The girl turned to run out of the alley and Vimes grabbed her wrist. She turned gracefully and kicked him in the head. He slumped back to the floor and she left the alley, demurely smoothing her dress as she did so.

*** * * * ***

Meanwhile Angua was having a hell of a time at Vortin's investigating the strongbox robbery. 

"How the hell did they do it?" asked Mr Vortin angrily, his normally ashen skin looking distinctly tinged with red, a definite sign of fury in a zombie.

"I'm not sure yet, but we'll find out," said Angua, scribbling into her notebook.

"I told you, it wasn't the same old strongbox. I got sick of all the robberies and we got a very expensive strongbox made. Guaranteed unbreakable, it was," muttered Vortin, rubbing the stitches on his wrist in annoyance.

"Who made the box? I mean, if it can be opened so easily that there aren't even scratches on the door then you should complain," pointed out Angua.

"That's just it," said Vortin, drawing closer for privacy. "We had it made special. I went to the palace to see Lord Vetinari and find out who made their safes and he said this bugger da Quirm makes em . So after a lot of cajoling and pleading, Vetinari let me get him to design me a strong box. Next thing you know, the bloody thing's been robbed again," said Vortin, his voice rising in anger.

"HmmmI'll have to check into this," said Angua, pocketing her notebook. She turned and walked out the door, while Vortin carried on moaning about how untrustworthy businessmen were and how hard it was to find honest people these days. When he realised Angua had left, he went into the back room and resumed his task of dipping small marbles in paint to make pearls.

Angua was looking for a small-time thief, and she knew where to find him. She found him in a heap of rubbish rummaging for something more or less edible, and she sat on her haunches to talk to him.

"Wee Willie?" she said. He spun around, noticed her badge, and started to quake slightly.

"Yes?" he replied, keeping his voice steady; he was a gnome, and a gnome who wants to survive in Ankh-Morpork has to know how to survive awkward situations like being six inches tall in a city full of humans.

"I know you were involved in the robbery at Vortin's the other night but I don't know why. If you tell me who and why I might leave you alone. There isn't a cell in the yard that could keep you in anyway, but I'm sure we could reach some arrangement if you feel like being obtuse," she said simply.

The gnome stared at her hard for a few seconds, and recalled the rather important fact about Angua as a Watch-woman. Gnomes are good at picking up information-when you look to see no-one is listening , you don't usually bother checking at ankle height.

He gave in." Alright, I'll tell yez. Just don't get me in any trouble I can't sort out, that's all," he said avoiding her gaze.

"Ok, but who? And why? I know you used a small squib of n ? 1 powder to blow the main lock mechanism and then opened the rest of it by hand, but why? What use are dipped pearls to you?" she asked, curious.

"It weren't for me. A coupla biggers hired me to do it. Didn't nick anything though. They just wanted me to see if I could open the safe for em. Then we left, empty bloody handed would ye believe?" he finished.

"Who were they, these two biggers? Names?" she said, glaring at him.

He looked at his feet sheepishly. "There was one guy and one pretty lass. I only know her name cos I overheard it. Ms. Blowinsky, I think," said the gnome.

"So they hired you but you didn't know their names? What would you have done if they hadn't paid you?" she asked.

"When you're six inches high you get good at recognising kneecaps. Then if someone messes with yez, you break the kneecap in question," he said, with an evil grin on his face.

"Well that's about it, I think, Willie. Don't get into any trouble now," she said, turning to leave.

"One more thing. When you found the guy who hadn't paid you, was he already dead?" she asked innocently.

"Yep. I thought I'd wake him up with a fractured knee, but he was a bit far gone for that sort of wakeup," said the gnome casually.

Angua nodded slightly. At least that explained some of the corpse's wounds.

Vimes came to groggily in the alley as a pigeon sat **[6]** on his shoulder. He cursed and read the attached message from Angua. A look of puzzlement crossed his face, and he absent-mindedly patted his pockets for a cigar, but he had run out. He reached for the one he had used on the thief and re-lit it. He inhaled, and racked his brains desperately. After a while he pulled out the watch he had been given for his wedding present years ago, and checked the time. It was eight o'clock, and the sun was starting to wane. In around an hour it would be dark. He would have to hurry if he was right. He got to his feet and headed up to the palace after sending Angua a reply with instructions.

At the Yard, Carrot was puzzled. Angua had told him what she'd found out at Vortin's and he was puzzled. 

"Why would they break into the safe and then not steal anything?" he mused. 

Angua had been wondering the same thing for a while, and then suddenly, randomly, she realized.

"I think I know. Vortin said the safe was made by the same person who designed the Palace's safes. So Vortin's would be a good place to practice" 

"If you were going to rob the Palace safes," they said in unison. 

"Which explains why Mr Vimes wants us up at the palace at nine o'clock. Why does he want a safe brought up then?" said Carrot.

"We'll pick one up on the way. It'll be to put that little sod Wee Willie in, I expect," she said.

So it was that Carrot ended up walking along Lower Broadway with a safe perched on his shoulder, supported with one hand. Every so often he would stop to greet whoever he

** [6] And did another similarly spelt action which pigeons are famous for.**

had seen that he knew, and since this was everyone, they made slow progress to the palace. 

Eventually they made it there, and met Vimes along with Drumknott inside. They walked down the corridor to the Oblong Office. They entered the room and Lord Vetinari turned to greet them. 

" Ah, come in, come in. I believe you have more or less solved the case, Vimes, now there is just the practical matter of catching the culprit. So what is it you need to know?" he asked pleasantly.

Vimes explained.

Mandy stood at the window in the dim light afforded from the city's oil street-lamps. Wee Willie was perched on her shoulder. She put the crowbar into the gap between window and frame and leaned on it to open the window. She opened the window and bent down to climb through it, taking care not to put her hand on any of the broken glass in the bottom frame. 

"Don't yez get any ideas about not paying like yon other fool got, eh? He was lucky the trolls got him before I did, and I don't like having to hit ladies," whispered Wee Willie into her ear.

She didn't reply. She walked slowly and carefully around the Oblong office, eyes seeking out the safe. When she saw it, she approached it, knelt down, and Carrot emerged from the shadows, and gripped her wrist. His other hand enveloped the gnome . 

Mandy looked up in disbelief, and tried to free her hand. Carrot's grip was like a vice-clamp. Angua walked over with the handcuffs, and cuffed her. Carrot then took wee Willie over to the safe and locked him in it.

Then Vimes stepped out of the shadows and looked at Mandy. She stared at him, stunned. "You...," she whispered.

"Yes, me. The guy you kicked in the head after I stopped three unlicensed thieves having their fun with you. Fine token of gratitude, don't you think?" he said, pointing at the bruise on his forehead.

She looked down. "I thought you were going to arrest me," she said quietly. 

"That's what I have to do now, but I mightn't have had to if you'd just talked to me before," Vimes snapped. " I must admit, it was quite ingenious testing Wee Willie's safe cracking abilities at Vortin's, but I just want to know why you did it," he said, genuine puzzlement in his voice.

She looked at him with venom in her eyes. "Because there's only two jobs women can take in this city apart from wife, and I don't want to try one and the other bored me, that's why. I bet you never ask men why they do it, because it's so obvious, right?" she added nastily.

Vimes stared at her. And then he thought, she's right. Apart from Angua there weren't any other human (and even here he wasn't sure whether she qualified fully or not) Watch-women, apart from the dwarves, and there was no difference there anyway, at least not superficially. And the gods were witnesses that he, Vimes, knew the boredom of clerical work. So he sympathised with her, to a certain extent.

"Ok then. Tell you what- we'll forget about this whole mess if you join the Watch. Angua here can show you the ropes for a woman in the Watch, and with a kick like you have, you should be able to fend for yourself," he said. He turned to look at Vetinari, expecting a shake of the head, but he got a nod instead.

"A happy solution all round, I feel, Commander. Capital suggestion. And now, I think we should all go to bed. It is the middle of the night, after all. And, commander, a word?" spoke Vetinari.

Carrot left with the safe and Wee Willie in it on his shoulder, followed by Angua and Mandy. Vetinari sat at his desk, and steepled his fingers. 

" I have a feeling you may have misunderstood my words when I explained to you earlier today. Do you see the broken window behind my desk, Vimes?" he asked.

"Yes sir," said Vimes.

"Do you know how it broke, Vimes?" asked Vetinari, levelly.

"No, sir," said Vimes.

"The man the Watch found dead today fired a crossbow through the window, Vimes. Since I happened to be standing at the time, it hit me in a not vital though painful spot which has resulted in me being unable to sit down comfortably. Miss Blowinsky was the first person in the office able to provide medical assistance, and while she was treating my..ah..wounds.. she removed the key from its place of safekeeping. You understand that the circumstances were unusual, hence the theft of the key and my failure to realise," said Vetinari in a level tone.

"Sir," said Vimes.

"I know how your mind works, Vimes. Just remember that," said Vetinari, mirthlessly smiling. 

"You may go, Vimes. Oh, and tell Angua she needn't file a report on this. Best kept quiet all round, I feel, given the nature of the crime, " said Vetinari.


End file.
